


scaled to size

by Engineer104



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Non-Graphic Violence, Temporary Amnesia, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Lance returns to Altea triumphant, claiming to have slain a fearsome dragon and intent on collecting his reward from Prince Lotor. But not all is what it seems...Or:  The tale of how Lance survived a dragon despite leaving his heart behind.





	scaled to size

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rueitae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rueitae/gifts).



> for Rue because she loves dragons and puts up with me asking for beta reads
> 
> this fic predates That One Time My Computer Crashed and I Lost All My Unsaved Work Because I Was an Idiot and Wrote in .txt Files and Didn't Save and Had No Backups...so naturally at the time i was very discouraged to continue it BUT thanks to a prompt from the Pidgance Positivity Discord a fire was lit under my ass and that fire wanted this fic to exist...if with a slightly different form than i'd originally planned. but i think it worked out for the better!! the concept is almost exactly the same, anyway
> 
> also, this may be vaguely medieval but there is no grimdark here ;) also there are probably anachronisms and i am ignorant and lazy but i don't believe i'm particularly erroneous about certain aspects of the story...also what's funny is that i have no particular fondness for dragons yet this is my SECOND fic...with dragons
> 
> (this one's much different than the other one though)
> 
> also you can think of this as a "Beauty and the Beast AU where Lance starts off as Gaston and ends up as Belle" (it might make more sense once you read)

Lance returned to Altea with far less fanfare than he once imagined for himself. No blaring trumpets greeted him, no ladies waving handkerchiefs on the sides of the main avenue or gentlemen doffing their hats while children cheered and darted up to him asking he share his tale. And, to his surprise, he didn’t mind.

Lance returned to Altea a changed man.

His chin itched where he’d shaved irregularly, his clothes worn and smelly with travel. Every step he took he thought he couldn’t take another, but he proved himself wrong with each one.

Maybe that was what kept him going, the desire to overcome that weaker part of himself that wished he’d never left the crevice in the mountains.

Lance ignored the heaviness in his heart as he reached into his satchel and ran a fingertip along the sharp edge of his stolen keepsake, reassuring himself that it was still there and allowing it to give him some measure of strength. He smiled, the Castle on its hill coming into view, and picked up his pace.

For all the riskiness in his plan, he strode towards his destination with a newfound confidence:  all the better to pull the rug out from under Prince Lotor, whether he recognized it or not.

Even better, the first Castle guardsman to catch sight of him and raise the alarm was Keith.

“ _Lance_?” he shouted down from his post atop the Castle’s outermost wall. His face peered out from between the crenelations, eyes wide and incredulous. “W-we thought you were dead! Hunk said—”

“Well, Hunk was wrong!” Lance retorted, a grin splitting his face, most traces of sobriety fleeing him; he was even happy to see _Keith_. “I’m back, and you’re never going to believe what I’ve brought!”

Keith smiled, then waved towards the gatehouse. To Lance he said, “Did the dragon get sick of your voice even from inside its stomach?”

Lance winced but managed to force an indignant yelp. “Please, I talked myself _out_ of her stomach!”

 _“I’m not going to_ eat _you!_ _” the dragon exclaimed, its tone horrified and gleaming yellow eyes wide._

_“Y-you’re not?” Lance asked, blinking at her in surprise. When it shook its head, he exhaled in relief and collapsed onto his back…at least until he remembered the green dragon - smaller than he expected it to be - had just taken him captive. He bolted upright and demanded, “Then why am I here? Why not just kill me and have done with it?”_

“You must not have been very persuasive if it’s taken you two months to get back,” Keith observed. “Unless you escaped?”

Lance laughed and admitted, “Something like that…”

Keith’s brow furrowed in confusion, but he was saved the trouble of asking - and Lance was saved the trouble of _replying_ \- when the gate creaked open.

A small contingent of guards stood at the ready to greet him, along with someone he’d once thought he would never see again.

Hunk burst through the guards and darted for Lance, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into a backbreaking hug before he could draw a breath. “Oh, I thought you were d-done for!” he said, his voice trembling. “Do you have any idea how _terrified_ I was when I watched a _dragon carry you away in its claws_?”

Lance patted Hunk’s back and rolled his eyes. “Actually, I have a _really_ good idea, Hunk,” he grumbled, “seeing as it was _me_ in a dragon’s claws.”

If he closed his eyes, he could still perfectly picture that first heart-stopping flight:  the flipping of his stomach and the way his breath caught in his throat, the rush of air over his cheeks and the rapidly blurring green treetops below.

(But by the next one, exhilaration rather than fear ruled him.)

“Oh, just shut up and hold me,” Hunk said, somehow squeezing him tighter.

Lance coughed, struggling to breathe, but happily returned Hunk’s hug.

Behind him, someone cleared their throat, disrupting the moment.

“Lance,” Shiro said, smiling and reaching forward to clasp his arm. “I’m glad to see you alive and in one piece.”

Lance chuckled and rubbed his ribs - right where she’d once smacked him with her tail. “I’ve never been so warmly welcomed in my life, sir,” he said. “Even my mother’s never greeted me like this!”

“It’s not every day someone is reported dead and returns after two months.” Shiro shot a reproachful glance at Hunk, who managed to look chagrined.

“Well,” Lance said, smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck, “you’ll never believe these last two months I’ve had.”

* * *

_The dragon dug through the odd mechanical bits and pieces that comprised its hoard before exclaiming in triumph and pulling something out. It carried a small box between its claws and carefully set it before Lance._

_“Listen,” it instructed._

_Lance gaped at the object._ _“I-is this_ real _?_ _” he demanded, flailing his arms. “I understand, I won’t accuse you of wanting to eat me again, but this—”_

_The dragon opened the box_ _’s lid._

_A gentle tune cut Lance off, its music easing the tension in his limbs; it filled the cave, out of place in such a rugged space. A tiny figurine of a girl in a lavender dress turned, a polished silver mirror inside the lid reflecting the dancer_ _’s movement._

_After the music ended, Lance picked up the box and wound the key in the side to play the tune again._

_When the dragon didn_ _’t react to him touching its belonging, Lance glanced up and asked, “Where did you—”_

_A girl with long, unkempt hair and wrapped in a patchy cloak sat in front of him._

_Lance gasped, pointing at her, and said,_ _“W-what the_ hell _—_ _”_

_She shivered and wrapped the cloak tighter around herself, her bare feet poking out from underneath the hem._ _“Do you recognize the tune?” she said, leaning forward slightly and with a hint of desperation in her voice._

_Lance shook his head._ _“No. Should I?”_

_The girl sighed and admitted,_ _“I don’t know.”_

* * *

“Captain, I need an audience with Prince Lotor,” Lance told Shiro once he was back in the eerily familiar Castle barracks. “It’s urgent.”

Shiro narrowed his eyes at him. “Does this have anything to do with his dragon hunt?”

Lance nodded, and when Shiro’s gaze drifted down to his satchel, he realized he’d rested a protective hand over it.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lance?” Shiro asked. He rested a hand on his shoulder. “Your time away—”

“—hasn’t changed my mind,” Lance lied, offering a smile to him. His heart sunk with the guilt at lying to his superior - his hero, his mentor - but the fewer people that knew the truth, the better he’d be able to fulfill his promise.

Shiro appraised him for a long moment - a moment filled with the sound of his pounding heart - before he said, “All right. Make yourself presentable - maybe even take a bath. I’ll get you that audience with Prince Lotor.”

Lance grinned, but it was too soon to feel relieved.

* * *

_The girl was human, if only compared to the dragon._

_Green scales glittered underneath eyes that glowed yellow in low lighting, and Lance found himself wondering how much under that cloak she wore was skin and how much was scales._

_(He upended the contents of his water bowl over his head before he could follow that thought too far.)_

_But in behavior_ _…_

_She spoke in a voice too deep for her small body, had no fear of the fire she stoked, and poured over her strange hoard just as much as the dragon had._

_In fact, she seemed to do it more in this human shape, taking advantage of her small and dexterous fingers to pick apart every last watch and delicate clockwork toy in her collection._

_And then she put them together again, in different forms than before. Many were indistinguishable from the originals, but almost all flowed_ better _._

_The limbs on a windup toy moved more fluidly after the dragon-in-girl-form carefully rebuilt it. She fixed broken watches - set at different times because neither of them knew what time it was_ _…or had much need to - or took parts from them and incorporated those into an entirely new toy._

_All that, she did while she wasn_ _’t hunting, and while ignoring him, her_ captive _._

_But she never touched the music box._

* * *

No one threw out or recycled his spare uniform while he was gone, but when Lance thanked Hunk for preserving it, he waved off his gratitude and admitted, “The captain made sure we left your belongings alone.”

“The captain?” Lance’s eyes widened in surprise. “But…”

He wasn’t sure what protest to make, not when his chest filled with warmth that Shiro didn’t think he was dead, even if he had every reason to believe it.

Lance dressed in the spare uniform - his old one would undoubtedly have to be thrown out thanks to all the wear it received in the last two months - and made sure not a single hair looked out of place. He’d shaved after bathing and even asked Hunk to trim his hair so that he resembled the same overconfident and ambitious guardsman that left Altea.

Well, he mused as he smirked at his reflection in the small mirror, he could still be confident, and it wouldn’t be a ruse.

* * *

_“So if you’re not going to eat me, can I go?” Lance wondered._

_He_ _’d just attempted his first escape - even made it quite a ways down the mountain - only for the dragon to find him and carry him back to her lair._

_At least the flight no longer terrified him, and he trusted her not to let him fall._

_“No,” said the dragon._

_“Then why am I_ here _?_ _” he said. He leaned against the wall of the cave and crossed his arms. “I apologized for hunting you, didn’t I?”_

_“An apology isn’t good enough!” said the dragon. “You have to atone too!”_

_“Well, I think I’ve more than atoned,” Lance retorted, glaring at the wings folded along her back. “And you know what? If you don’t want me to try again, you’d better give me something to do because now that I’m not scared I have_ plenty _of time to be bored!_ _”_

_The dragon turned her head to look at him._ _“You admit you were scared?”_

_Lance_ _’s jaw dropped as heat rose to his cheeks. “O-of course I wasn’t scared! I knew you weren’t going to eat me, so why would I be_ scared _?_ _”_

_“There’s no use in you lying, Sir Knight,” the dragon said, her tone sarcastic. “You just confessed to being scared.”_

_“Not anymore, I’m not!” Lance fired back, annoyed. “And don’t call me ‘Sir Knight’ when I have an actual name!”_

_(But for some strange reason - and despite her sarcasm - hearing her call him_ _“Sir Knight” filled him with a warm pride.)_

_“Oh?” The dragon turned to face him properly, her yellow eyes flashing. “What’s this name of yours?”_

_“I’ll trade you,” Lance said, pointing at her. “I’ll give you my name if you”—let him escape? Explained why she captured him at all?—”give me yours! That’s a_ more _than fair deal._ _”_

_The dragon bared her fangs - the light of the fire she_ _’d lit to keep him warm gleamed off them - and growled, “Fine, but only after you open the music box.”_

_“What?” Lance said, startled at the surprisingly easy victory - even if it came with a strange stipulation. “Why?”_

_“Names are human things,” the dragon said, “and my name belongs to a human.”_

* * *

While Lance waited for word from Shiro, he sat on his bunk with his keepsake in his hands.

It was still warm to the touch, though that might’ve been his imagination, or simply his compulsive need to hold it. He ran his thumb over the smooth surface, smiling at the way it reflected and scattered light through the empty barracks.

All he had left, and soon he’d give it away in exchange for something he’d always wanted.

Or _thought_ he’d always wanted.

His heart grew heavy all over again, heavy with guilt and with remembrance, both at the memory of a long held dream and at the bittersweetness of parting. Strange to think that only two months ago he’d set out from Altea intent on his quest - and now to return reluctant to see it through.

“I’m sorry,” Lance murmured to the scale, bowing his head over it. “I’m sorry, Pidge.”

* * *

_Soft music filled the cave when the girl told him her name - a name that Lance couldn_ _’t quite believe._

_“You’re a dragon, and your name is_ Pidge _?_ _” He laughed and admitted, “I expected something a little…grander, like—”_

 _“Not like Lance, surely?” To his surprise - to his_ delight _, if only it wasn_ _’t at his expense - the girl - or Pidge - smirked. “Maybe something more like Meklavar?”_

_“Meklavar?” Lance raised an eyebrow at her._

_Pidge_ _’s eyes widened. “I-I think I heard that name in a story once.” She sat cross-legged beside the fire, her cloak slipping to expose a pale shoulder, and with a faraway expression on her face. “A story…when I was human.”_

_“When you were_ human _?_ _” Lance frowned and said, “You mean not like you are now?”_

_Pidge raised an arm, turning it so that he could see the scales on the underside, scattering light from the fire. She touched the scales on her cheeks and wondered,_ _“Do I look human to you?”_

_“More than you did earlier,” Lance said._

_Pidge snorted, but it was without amusement._ _“But I’m not, at least not anymore.”_

_“Wait, then—”_

_“I don’t know how, Lance,” Pidge cut him off before he could ask. She toyed with the frayed hem of her cloak and continued, “But I know the only thing I have left of_ then _is that music box_ _”—she jerked her head at the box still lying open with the dancer spinning to the soft tune—”and the name Pidge.”_

* * *

“Lance?”

He hid the scale behind his back at the sound of his name, but once he saw it was only Shiro poking his head through the barrack doorway, Lance stood.

“Sir?” he prompted.

Shiro smiled. “Prince Lotor is prepared to see you now.”

Lance forced a smile of his own; he’d never liked the exiled Galra prince, and there was no real reason to start now. But he followed Shiro from the barracks and said, “Great! Lead the way, Captain.”

Shiro led Lance across a yard crowded with Castle guards and servants and visiting nobles and into the hold - the very heart of the Castle.

Lance hadn’t set foot inside in over two months, and the way his footsteps echoed off the tile floor and through the stone hallways reminded him of the cave in the mountain.

For a moment, he was back, picking his way through the dragon’s hoard of clocks and toys and books while he awaited her return. And when the familiar sound of her claws clicking against stone met his ears, he turned to her with a smile on his face and a question on the tip of his tongue—

“—hood?”

Lance jumped, startled from his daydream, and met the eyes of one of Prince Lotor’s strange half-Galra lady knights. “What?” he said, blinking at her.

He _thought_ the one with the lazy smirk and girlish giggle was Ezor.

She flashed her teeth and said, “Already daydreaming about what to do once our prince knights you?”

Lance plastered a smile onto his face and said, “Oh, wouldn’t _you_ like to know.”

Ezor’s eyes glinted with an unfriendly light - irresistibly reminding him of the first and only time he tried a line on her - and she said, “Something tells me I’m about to find out whether you tell me or not.”

* * *

_“What did I ever do to you anyway?”_

_“You mean,_ besides _kidnap me and hide me in your lair like another one of your books or toys?_ _” Lance cracked an eye open and peered at the dragon curled up in her nest._

 _“You were_ hunting _me!_ _” she retorted._

 _“And what did those caravans traveling through the pass ever do to_ you _?_ _”_

 _Pidge bared her teeth in a feral snarl, a thin strand of smoke curling out of her nostrils._ _“_ Galra _caravans? The ones that come looking for me and attack me_ first _?_ _” She stood and turned so that firelight revealed a pattern of white lines crisscrossing her scales on her side, right where the softer, weaker scales on her belly met the firmer armor._

_Lance swallowed, something turning in his stomach at the sight, and said,_ _“Why?”_

_“I don’t know,” she said, her voice softer than he expected. She rested her head on her front feet, looking more like the lazy cat that lived in his brother’s barn than a fearsome beast from stories, and added, “Every one I asked said he sought a reward.”_

_He shivered, shifting guiltily on his makeshift nest of blankets, and sat up to lean against the cave wall._ _“From…who?”_

_Pidge growled._ _“Some Galra prince.”_

* * *

Prince Lotor admitted Lance during his dinner, a surprisingly simple meal of roast beef with buttered vegetables. He glanced up when Lance entered the small private dining room with Shiro trailing behind him.

He set down his fork as Ezor sauntered away to stand at his shoulder. “You’re alive,” he said, his eyes widening in shock. “I had thought Captain Shirogane was jesting.”

Lance smirked and clasped his hands behind his back in a familiar parade rest. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Your Highness.”

Prince Lotor’s gaze slipped past Lance to land on Shiro. “Perhaps being thought dead only to reappear is some secret initiation of the Castle Guard’s.”

Ezor grinned, and even Shiro cracked a smile. “Would that it was so intentional, Your Highness.”

Lotor smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Well, do you have anything to show for your long absence?” He twirled a loose strand of long blond hair around a finger.

Lance resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His heart skipped an anxious beat as he reached into the pocket of his uniform coat and pulled out his proof - his only keepsake:

The dragon scale.

* * *

_“Pidge, I should probably confess something,” Lance said. He slid his way along the wall and towards the cavern entrance, feeling the floor so that no encountered piece of metal could rattle and give him away._

_Thunder rumbled outside, barely audible this deep inside the mountain, but it was enough that he hoped it masked any sound he made._

_“And what’s that, Lance?” Pidge asked, her tone curious._

_“I’m…here on behalf of a Galra prince,” he said. His eyes widened when his fingertips touched water - he was close enough that he could feel the rain puddling inside._

_“What’s he giving you in return?” Pidge demanded, extending her neck towards him._

_Lance_ _’s heart jumped into his throat; he not only wanted to escape, but he also wanted to be close enough to the cave entrance if she threw a dragon-sized temper tantrum._

_(Not that she_ _’d ever done that before; one just never really knew with their captor…)_

_“Well—wait, what makes you think I’m not here following orders out of loyalty?”_

_A sound halfway between a chuckle and a growl came from Pidge_ _’s throat. “Your uniform is that of the Altean Castle Guard; you’re never ordered beyond the city, least of all by a_ Galra _prince._ _”_

_Lance_ _’s eyes widened. “Y-you—how do you know that?”_

_“I…” Pidge’s jaw dropped in an eerily human expression of surprise. “I-I don’t—it’s just something I know!” she snapped once she recovered._

_Lance narrowed his eyes, still suspicious._ _“If you say so, Pidge,” he said, shrugging. He slumped, tapping his fingertips against the cave floor, and muttered, “A knighthood.”_

_“What?” Pidge said, her claws clicking as she crept towards him._

_(So much for a temporary escape_ _…)_

_“Prince Lotor offered a knighthood to anyone that brought him evidence of your…death,” Lance explained. “And once I have a knighthood, I can even court the princess.” He grinned at the thought of Princess Allura and said, “And after that? Who knows.”_

_“I see…”_

_An idea struck Lance, and he beamed and said,_ _“Why don’t you give me a scale and I can take it back to Altea with me? I have ‘proof’ that I’ve done the deed, and you’ll be left alone so long as you stop attacking caravans.”_

_Pidge immediately dashed his hopes when she said,_ _“No.”_

_“What?” Lance waved his arms and whined, “Why not? It’s a victory for both of us!”_

_“How do I know you won’t just lead an army to my lair?” she said, her eyes flashing with anger._

_“I—” Lance snapped his jaws shut with a scowl as he searched for some way to convince her…and realized he had nothing._

* * *

Lotor’s eyes gleamed as his gaze fell on the scale. He pushed his dinner plate aside and said, “Let me have a look.”

Lance clutched the scale a little tighter, but he set his jaw and, somehow, set the green scale on the table before Prince Lotor.

He picked it up and examined it from all angles, running his fingers along the edges and smooth surface. “Extraordinary,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, not since the black dragon hunted in the passes.”

Shiro shifted his stance and said, “What’s special about it?”

“It belongs to a dragon rather than to a snake, for one.” Lotor chuckled at some private joke, and Lance rolled his eyes at Shiro. “For another…dragons are created through powerful magic, not born as we humans are.” His lips twisted into a scowl as he added, “Powerful _dark_ magic.”

Lance’s eyes widened, something about that statement pricking at his mind - not quite hitting on a memory, but at an implication left by one.

* * *

_“It’s the music box?”_

_“I think so…” Pidge turned the key on the box, the music beginning anew before she transformed back into the dragon. “Maybe something else.”_

_Lance toyed with the catch that sealed the box._ _“What else, Pidge?”_

_“My name…I think you using it.” Pidge laughed and rubbed her eyes, her cheeks faintly pink. “But I can’t know for certain because you’re the first one I’ve given it to.”_

_Lance_ _’s chest filled with a welcome warmth that grew more familiar by the day. “Sadly, I can’t say the same about mine,” he teased._

_Pidge rolled her eyes and retorted,_ _“I suppose you’re trying to make me jealous?”_

_“Of what?” Lance leaned against the wall, close enough to the cave’s entrance he could peer outside the crevice in the mountain and down into the pass. Juniberry flowers grew on either side of it, in full bloom now that it was late spring, but too far below that their sweet perfume couldn’t reach him._

_Once, he picked those flowers hoping to impress a princess_ _…_

_It was so close, and with Pidge looking less like a dragon and more like a human, escape was within reach._

_“That your name is less…private.” Pidge approached him, standing at the crevice across from him._

_“No, I’m just flattered that I’m the first to know yours.”_

_“Maybe,” Pidge said, her tone doubtful while her smile faltered. She gazed out, the scales under her eyes glittering in the sunlight in a way they didn’t in the presence of a simple campfire._

_“Do you ever…go out like that?” Lance wondered._

_She glanced at him, her eyes narrowed._ _“Like what?”_

_“Looking…human.”_

_Pidge bit her lip and tightened her grip on her loose-hanging cloak._ _“No,” she admitted, “and before you I didn’t have much reason to look human at all.”_

_Lance quirked an eyebrow at her._ _“More flattery?”_

_She snorted and said,_ _“Do I_ really _seem like the sort that would seek to flatter you, Lance?_ _”_

_Lance laughed._ _“Lucky for you, I’m not tired of the music from your box yet.”_

* * *

“Tell me the story of how you slew the dragon,” Prince Lotor commanded. He sat the green scale in his lap and propped his elbows on his chair’s armrests. “Give me the tale, and in exchange I may knight you.”

Lance frowned and took a step forward, but Shiro’s hand on his shoulder held him back. “But you said if I brought _proof_ —”

“The tale is part of the evidence,” Prince Lotor said, “and if it proves satisfactory, then I will fulfill my promise.”

Lance pressed his lips together, thoughts frantic as he sought for…something.

From behind Lotor, Ezor smirked. She bent down, her lips close to the prince’s ear as if to impart some secret.

Lance stiffened his back and, before he could think too much on it, decided on the truth. “Over two months ago, Hunk and I set out from Altea…”

* * *

_“…to marry the princess?” Pidge raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “I thought you were a farm boy.”_

_Lance gaped at her, then indignantly retorted,_ _“I_ was _a farm boy, but now I_ _’m a Castle guard and soon I’ll be a knight, which makes me_ perfectly _eligible to marry a princess, thank you very much!_ _”_

 _Pidge rolled her eyes, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and said,_ _“What makes you think the princess will want to marry_ you _?_ _”_

_Lance opened his mouth to answer, but when the question properly hit him it gave him pause._ _“Well…there’s courtship first, obviously. Plenty of time for her to fall in love with me then.”_

_Pidge snorted._ _“And if she doesn’t? What then?”_

_“Then…she doesn’t.” Lance shrugged, the thought of rejection not hitting him as hard as it used to. “I’ll still have a knighthood.” He grinned and nudged her with his elbow. “That must count for something.”_

_“And what will you do with it?” Pidge wondered._

_“Oh, you know, wander the land saving helpless maidens.”_

_“Why do you need a knighthood for_ that _?_ _”_

_Lance blinked, startled by her words._ _“Because I…want the uh…” He trailed off, suddenly uncertain, and rubbed the back of his neck._

_What did he want from a knighthood? The title? The recognition? His stipend as a Castle guard wouldn_ _’t even change if he earned one!_

_But telling Pidge any of that just made it seem_ _…worthless._

* * *

Lance’s stomach churned with nausea while he wove his tale for Prince Lotor.

“She took me captive for daring to fight her,” Lance explained, “so I befriended her, and when she lowered her defenses—”

_Pidge held his unstrung bow out to him._ _“This is yours.”_

“—and when I earned her trust—”

_“Why?” Lance asked as he curled his fingers around it, staring at it with wide, incredulous eyes._

“—and her back was turned—”

_"You don’t belong here,” she said, her gaze downcast while she chewed on her lip. “Go home, Lance.”_

“—I buried an arrow in her neck.”

 _“But…what about you?” Lance wondered, pretending that_ her _rejection didn_ _’t make his heart ache._

“I see…” Prince Lotor propped his chin on the palm of his hand. “And I suppose the dragon’s body was too heavy for you to bear alone while malnourished so you thought a single scale would be enough?”

Lance rested a self-conscious hand over his abdomen and scowled. “Are you breaking your promise?”

“Not yet.” Lotor stood and paced the length of the small room, Ezor watching him and ready to jump the moment he demanded it. “Although I’m rather disappointed.”

“By what?” Lance asked, his heart hammering. If Lotor didn’t believe him…

“Your tale doesn’t lack for details - and I can’t feasibly imagine _why_ or _how_ you would survive a dragon’s attentions without first slaying it—”

Shiro shifted beside him, an expression of distaste crossing his face.

“—but I still find myself doubting.”

Lance scowled, but before he could make an angry retort, Shiro cut in, “And how can Lance alleviate these doubts, Your Highness?”

Prince Lotor came to a stop directly in front of them, so close Lance could extend an arm and shove him away. A slow smirk stretched his lips, and he said, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Lance’s heart sank with dread. “It’s—”

“You will take me to the dragon’s lair and allow me to see its corpse for myself,” Prince Lotor pronounced. “I will see evidence that you’ve eradicated this evil, and _then_ you will have your knighthood and all the privileges that implies.”

Lance’s brow furrowed, his blood rushing through his ears. Everything he wanted stared him in the face, dangled before him by a man whose motives he didn’t trust.

Everything he wanted - but not now, and not like this.

Lance met Prince Lotor’s eyes.

“No.”

* * *

_“I’m staying.” Pidge slipped her hand - rougher than he expected thanks to the fine scales overlaying her skin - into his. “This is my home now, Lance; it has been for as long as I can remember.”_

_He let go of her hand and pulled her into his arms instead._ _“I won’t tell anyone where it is,” Lance swore with his nose pressed into her hair. “No one will bother you again.”_

_Pidge trembled against him, her returning embrace tight._ _“You’d better not,” she said, “because if you do, I might eat you after all.”_

_The music stopped, cut off mid-note._

* * *

“ _No_?” Prince Lotor echoed, his eyes narrowing while Ezor’s popped almost comically. “What do you mean _no_?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Lance said, refusing to back down - though he had to remind himself that Lotor was a visiting (exiled) prince who held no real power in Altea. “And if you don’t believe me then—then I don’t want a knighthood offered by _you_ anyway!”

“Lance,” Shiro muttered in warning.

“What?” Lance said, turning to glare at him. “Sir, he’s just a guest! He can’t order my execution for my refusal!”

“You’re still insulting the _king_ _’s_ guest,” Shiro chided him.

“But—”

Shiro clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder, effectively silencing him into staring at the ground. “I take it the audience is at an end, Your Highness?”

“It is,” Prince Lotor agreed, his arms crossed.

“Oh, good,” Lance sneered, shrugging Shiro’s hand off. “Because if you’ll excuse me, I need to write to my mother and tell her the good news. And maybe go to sleep; I’m _exhausted_.”

* * *

Shiro pulled him aside as soon as they left Prince Lotor’s dining room. Before Lance could protest - he really _was_ bone-achingly tired, his burst of energy at challenging Lotor fading fast - he warned, “Do not make an enemy of Prince Lotor.”

“Why?” Lance said. “Is it just because he’s the king’s _guest_?”

“No, it’s not,” Shiro said. “I know him better than you do—”

“I know him well enough,” Lance grumbled, shuffling his feet.

“—and he’ll stop at nothing to accomplish his objective.”

Lance frowned as shame washed over him, but he couldn’t help muttering, “Maybe Prince Lotor made an enemy of _me_ first.”

Shiro raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”

Lance’s gaze fell to the ground; he could lie to Lotor without guilt, but to his captain… “I just think he’s wrong about dragons,” he said.

Shiro crossed his arms. “I see.”

“Sir, I meant what I said in there,” Lance told him, shrugging. “She - the dragon - wasn’t bloodthirsty at all. She’s different from what you think - from what I thought.”

_“You’re not what I expected from a dragon,” Lance observed. He held up the pewter platter in his hands. “For one, you gave me something to eat off of.”_

_Pidge snorted, expelling a stream of smoke from a nostril._ _“Have you met many dragons?” she asked._

_Lance laughed and said,_ _“Oh, no. I think I’d remember something like that.”_

Shiro met his gaze and frowned. “You might be surprised what I think.”

* * *

Lance resumed his duties the following day. When Shiro encouraged him to take another one to rest, he declined and claimed he preferred to keep himself distracted from his failure.

(Not to earn a knighthood; though he’d always wanted one, that was one forfeiture he couldn’t regret.)

But distraction served him well, keeping his mind off Pidge and the ache that leaving her left in his chest.

“I’m hearing some strange rumors about you, Lance,” Hunk said during a meal while they were both off-duty.

“Oh?” Lance quirked an eyebrow, curious. “Like what?”

“I heard that Prince Lotor offered to knight you and that you refused him.” Hunk frowned and added, “And it doesn’t sound like you at all.”

Lance laughed. “It’s not true.”

“Oh, great!” Hunk grinned and patted his arm. “Gossip’s an unreliable source of information, so—”

“He didn’t offer.”

“What?”

Lance shrugged, picking apart his bread and dipping it into his stew. “He asked for details I wouldn’t give him, so he didn’t offer.”

“Why didn’t you give him those details?” Hunk wondered, his eyes wide with surprise.

“I…made a promise,” Lance said. He waved the rest of his loaf of bread under Hunk’s nose. “And if you stop asking, I’ll give you my bread.”

Hunk frowned. “I’m not _that_ easy to buy, Lance.” His eyes crossed keeping the bread in his view. “Also, that’s barely two bites. If you _are_ going to bribe me, the quality of the bribe should be higher.”

Lance tore a piece of bread off with his teeth. “Should I count?” he said mid-chew.

Hunk’s nose wrinkled. “Please stop talking with your mouth full.”

Lance swallowed and laughed, and when Hunk joined in and clapped him on the back, he forgot his moroseness, at least for the moment.

* * *

“I expect you’ll need a new uniform to replace the rags you returned in, Lance.”

Lance fumbled his spear, nearly dropping it over the crenelations, when the Castle Guard’s quartermaster spoke. “Yes, sir!” he said, throwing up a snappy salute. “I guess I do.”

Matt stood before him, leaning heavily on a crutch with a notebook tucked under his other arm. He smirked at Lance and said, “No daring tale of how a dragon tore them to shreds?”

Heat rose to Lance’s face as he stuttered, “N-no, she did not! It was just regular and faster wear and tear, sir.”

“I see…” Matt squinted at him, looking more confused than reproachful, an expression that wouldn’t be out of place on the face of a quartermaster chiding a guard for mishandling his uniform. “Are you _sure_ it’s the same Lance that returned from a dragon’s lair? Surely there’s _some_ exciting story you’re withholding from us.” He smacked Lance’s backside with the notebook, making him jump, and said, “Some story that paints you as a hero. Maybe the dragon had a second captive, even…?”

Lance blinked. “No, it was just me.”

“Really?” Matt rested against the Castle wall and appraised him. “No frightened young maiden whose escape you aided by holding the dragon back?”

_The only frightened young maiden was the dragon itself_ _…_

Lance smiled. “I hate to disappoint you, but the most exciting thing that happened to me was the dragon capturing and flying me to her lair.”

“Oh, come on, Lance!” Matt sighed. “How else will I live vicariously through you if you don’t tell me about your adventures?” With his crutch, he prodded his shin, where he sustained a permanent injury while fighting the great black dragon that once stalked the mountain pass between Altea and Daibazaal.

The same dragon left Shiro without an arm, and when they returned - Shiro after a years’ long disappearance - the king promoted him to Castle Guard captain and Matt to quartermaster.

Keith was the only other survivor of the expedition that set out to slay that dragon.

“Read a book?” Lance suggested.

Matt sighed. “Oh, I would, but I lost my favorite dragon story a long time ago.”

“Oh really?” Lance resumed his patrol along the Castle walls, slow enough that Matt could keep pace with him.

“Yes, let me see if I can remember it and maybe inspire you to give me a new one.” Matt pushed his glasses up his nose. “There were these five adventurers on a quest…”

* * *

_By the time Lance lost count of how many days he_ _’d been the dragon’s captive, he grew so bored that he decided he’d rather read than play with Pidge’s odd assortment of toys._

_So he perused her book collection._

_Lance scanned the titles before choosing one with a worn leather spine at random. He opened the cover and traced the messy, dried black ink forming what looked like a name on the inside._

_A child_ _’s handwriting, he guessed from how ill-formed the letters were, or perhaps the penmanship of someone unused to holding a pen. But he was sure the first letter was K, and the second was…either an A or a U, and the third—_

_“Lance!”_

_Lance jumped, the book falling from his grasp and landing open on the cave floor. He spun towards Pidge_ _’s shout and yelled, “What?”_

_The dragon stepped into view, hobbling on only three legs, and held something out to him._ _“Look what I found!” she said._

_Lance approached her - cautiously because although she_ _’d only struck him once he didn’t want to startle her - and peered at her clawed front foot. He reached towards her. “What’s…that?”_

_Pidge dropped the object into his hand._ _“I found it in the pass,” she explained. “It looked like it was dropped by someone in a caravan.”_

_Lance turned what looked to be a simple pocket watch in his hands, examining the delicate metalwork._ _“It was…dropped,” he echoed skeptically._

_“It seemed so.”_

_“It’s just a pocket watch,” Lance observed, holding it up by its silver chain. “What’s so special—”_

_Pidge snatched it from his hand and cradled it close to her smooth, scaled chest._ _“It is_ not _,_ _” she retorted. “It’s another piece to add to my collection.”_

_Lance narrowed his eyes at her, watching as she moved deeper into the cave, towards her clockwork hoard._ _“Did you kill anyone for it?”_

_Pidge halted, turning her giant head to glare at him, her luminous yellow eyes flashing angrily._ _“You’re questioning me?”_

_Lance stood his ground despite the pounding of his heart._ _“You’re a dragon,” he reminded her. “It’s in your nature—”_

_“And what do you know of dragons?” Pidge demanded, sticking her face so close to his that her uncomfortably hot breath blew over his skin. “You’re just an ignorant boy too big for his britches!”_

_Lance scowled._ _“And what do you know about_ me _?_ _” he fired back, his fury matching hers. “You_ kidnapped _me, so what makes you think you know anything of my life, especially when you_ _’re not even_ human _?_ _”_

_The dragon - Pidge - recoiled as if struck, and Lance knew with a heart-stopping certainty that he_ _’d gone too far._

_“Pidge—”_

_Lance dodged her thrashing tail as she turned and stomped deeper into the cave, so deep the shadows hid her from his sight._

_A moment later, the tune from the music box filled the air._

_His heart only plummeted further when the soft sound of sobs joined it._

* * *

“…another one, like you.”

Lance paused outside Shiro’s office door, his fist poised to knock. The murmured voices inside piqued his curiosity, made his back stiffen and his breath short.

“He called it _she_ , Shiro,” Matt said, his tone urgent. “I’ve _never_ heard anyone talk about a dragon like it’s _human_ , not since Keith did last time.”

 _Last time?_ His heart skipped a beat, and Lance wondered if he’d made a grave mistake, if he should’ve watched his tone, if—

“I don’t know, Matt,” Shiro said wearily. “For all we know, what happened last time was a unique case.”

“Not anymore,” Matt said. “There’s someone else.”

Lance’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t quite piece together the hints in their conversation, feeling like he missed some crucial fact that would make everything fall into place like the delicate parts in another of Pidge’s clockwork toys. But what he heard teased at his mind, so he pressed his ear to the door.

“If you’re right - and a part of me hopes that you’re not - there’s no way to know who it is.”

Someone inside sighed, and Matt said, “If I’m right, it’s a woman cursed by a witch.”

“But until Lance gives us more—”

“I’ll talk to him,” Matt promised. “I’ll find out more.”

Lance, deciding he’d heard enough, turned on his heel and left, his reason for coming to see Shiro forgotten. His head buzzed with questions - if Matt and Shiro could pose as much danger to Pidge as Prince Lotor did, if the “another one” referred to the black dragon that hadn’t been sighted in years, if—

Lance’s shoulder rammed into someone, jerking him out of his thoughts and to the side. “Sorry,” he mumbled, barely looking up to see a wide-eyed Ezor’s face shifting into a smug smirk.

* * *

_The dragon didn_ _’t speak to him that evening or the following morning, instead keeping her back to him for much of those uncomfortable hours._

_Lance tried to fill the silence with his own chatter, but she ignored it._

_“Fine,” he muttered, pretending guilt didn’t still churn in his gut and that he wasn’t lonelier than ever with her shunning him._

_Silly, to think his_ captor _could draw this much of an effect on his emotions._

 _But there_ was _an advantage to only seeing her back_ _…_

_Lance trekked halfway down the mountain, reaching the level where juniberry flowers brushed his shins, before the dragon_ _’s wings blotted out the sun._

* * *

“So the dragon didn’t even hurt you?” Keith said, his brow furrowed skeptically.

“Just the one time,” Lance said, shrugging and rubbing his abdomen. “She only left a nasty bruise behind.”

“I see…”

Lance took in Keith’s faraway, contemplative look, then asked, “How did you kill that black dragon?”

Keith stiffened. “I didn’t kill him,” he said. “Shiro did.”

His eyes narrowed, something in Keith’s words ringing untrue. “Is that how he lost his—”

Matt sliding into the chair beside Keith cut him off. “Oh, don’t mind me, boys,” he said, opening a massive ledger. “I’m just organizing the accounts; boring task, but very consuming.”

Lance’s skin prickled with the discomfort of knowing someone was spying on him. “Right,” he said, skeptical.

And sure enough, before Lance could press Keith for more details, Matt added without glancing up from the ledger, “Some say dragons are created by dark magic - and they’re right of course - but perhaps it’s not that simple. But one naturally needs to have firsthand experience with a dragon to understand that.”

“I should…go,” Keith muttered, standing and, before he departed, adding, “On duty soon.”

Lance, paying him no heed, smirked at Matt. “Oh, Matt, maybe you _would_ like to hear a tale.”

He rested his elbows on the table and smiled. “Go on.”

“Once upon a time, there was a farm boy who wanted nothing more than to be knighted and to court a princess, but he was just a little too big for his britches…”

* * *

_The dragon expressed no anger when she carried him back to her lair, but she growled at him for every small slight. And Lance grew so frustrated with this fresh tension that he quickly snapped,_ _“Dammit, Pidge, why can’t you_ talk _to me?_ _”_

 _“Because you’re_ bored _?_ _” the dragon retorted immediately._

 _“No!” Lance flailed his arms, then calmed and added, “All right, that’s_ partly _why, but it_ _’s also that…I shouldn’t have said what I did. I…you told me how you feel about humanity, and it was awful of me to throw that into your face, so…I’m sorry.”_

_He stared at the ground, swallowing his pride while he waited for Pidge_ _’s judgment - and hoping for her forgiveness._

_“So you’re not sorry for trying to escape?”_

_Lance snorted, briefly amused, and said,_ _“I don’t really_ want _to be here._ _” He glanced up, meeting her gleaming eyes, and added, “But since I am I think I’d like to know more about dragons…and about you, if you’ll tell me.”_

_Pidge blinked, iridescent eyelids shining as she did, and said,_ _“All right, but you should know I…I’m sorry too.”_

_Lance smiled._ _“Anything you want to know about me, I’ll tell you.”_

* * *

“So thanks to the dragon, the farm boy learned he didn’t need the knighthood after all?”

Lance nearly choked on his drink, surprised at Matt’s conclusion. He wiped away a drop that slid down his cheek and admitted, “Yes, I guess so.”

“I suppose being captured by and then slaying a dragon would change anyone.” Matt raised an eyebrow at him.

The impression that Matt sought some particular tidbit of information struck Lance, and not for the first time. “Yes, well, I can’t say I don’t regret that. Killing someone you knew”— _pretending_ to kill someone he knew—”isn’t fun.”

Matt smiled sadly. “I should think that’s an understatement, especially considering how fond I think you were of the dragon - of her.”

Lance’s heart fell at the reminder. He stared into his drink and said, “You could say that.”

“From the way you talk about her, one might almost say that she was human.”

“Pidge seemed to think she was once.”

Matt’s eyes flew wide, and his cup fell to the floor at a stray motion of his elbow. He shot to his feet, his crutch clattering to the ground from where it had leaned against the table.

Lance jumped, startled, when Matt grabbed the collar of his uniform shirt.

“Lance,” he said through gritted teeth, “you are going to take me to that dragon’s lair, and unlike Prince Lotor I won’t take no for an answer.”

* * *

_Lance told Pidge about the farm where he grew up, about how he came to Altea_ _’s capital and trained to be a Castle guard once he passed the initial tests._

_“I’ve always wanted to be a knight,” he explained while attempting to make out the distant shadowed ceiling of the cave. “I thought that this was the way to do it.” He propped himself on his elbow and glanced towards where Pidge - as the girl - lay nearby, the open music box sitting by her head. “What about you? What did you want to be as a child?”_

_“Not a dragon, I think,” Pidge said._

_Lance chuckled, but before he could ask again, he remembered._

_“I’m sorry,” he said, his chest aching in sympathy. “Do you…really not remember anything? Not even your parents’ faces or if you had brothers and sisters?”_

_Pidge sighed._ _“Sometimes, when I dream, I think I see them, but while I’m awake it’s all gone.”_

_“Oh…I can’t imagine not even remembering my family.”_

_“It’s the_ only _thing I can imagine,_ _” Pidge said. “But if I did…” She rolled onto her side so that she faced him. “Maybe if I remembered a face - even if just my father’s  - I’d be even lonelier than I already am.”_

_An unfamiliar impulse drove Lance to reach for her hand and squeeze._ _“What about now?”_

_“I don’t know, Lance,” she said, and she withdrew her hand from his._

* * *

Matt calmed once Lance confessed that he never killed the dragon, but he remained firm in his insistence that he take him to her lair immediately.

Lance set out with Matt and Shiro the same day, his feet beating a familiar path and his heartbeat rapid with anticipation.

The worries that plagued him were not so easily calmed as Matt’s, not when he broke the promise he made Pidge. The only way he could reassure himself was by extracting promises of their own:  that neither Matt nor Shiro seek to harm the dragon or reveal her hideout.

Matt and Shiro had exchanged a strange, too-knowing glance between them before they agreed, and though Lance wanted to know what _that_ was about, he decided it wasn’t important, not when he could see Pidge at the end of a short journey.

Not when he thought he’d never see her again only days ago.

So Lance swallowed his guilt and led the way.

And Matt and Shiro eventually spoke unprompted.

“I was once a dragon,” Shiro explained their first night camping outside the city. “I was cursed; I was an aimless youth and got into trouble. When King Alfor suffered a slight while we were visiting Daibazaal, I took matters into my own hands and attacked the insulter.

“The king - deservedly, though I didn’t think so at the time - allowed my arrest, but he was just as shocked as I was when I…disappeared.

“King Zarkon told him that I died in a brutal fight with another prisoner, but his witch Haggar cursed me instead.”

Lance shivered and shifted closer to their campfire. “What broke the curse?”

Shiro’s dark eyes reflected the flames. “I found a purpose,” he said. “When I encountered Matt and Keith again in the pass, I…saw something of myself in Keith and knew I needed to be a better man - for him and for Altea.” His hand, resting on his thigh, curled into a fist. “Keith didn’t know it was me when he cleaved off my right arm, but I never blamed him for defending himself.”

“He needed to be a better man, which he learned through not being a man at all.” Matt chuckled at his own joke, and even Shiro cracked a smile.

“Thank you for telling me,” Lance said, relieved at the way _those_ clues filled in certain gaps in his knowledge, though others remained. “But what does that have to do with Pidge?”

Matt and Shiro exchanged another glance. “It’s your story to tell,” said Shiro.

Matt sighed and quietly admitted, “Pidge is the nickname I gave my sister.” He smiled sadly and added, “She hated it.”

Lance’s eyes widened. “Y-your _sister_?”

Matt leaned towards him and wondered, “Did the dragon ever mention anything about a family? Or were her memories as muddled as Shiro’s?”

“She said she didn’t remember,” Lance told him.

“That’s what I thought.” Matt took off his glasses to polish them with the hem of his shirt. “Pidge - or Katie - took it hard when our father disappeared.”

“Your father—”

“King Alfor’s relationship with King Zarkon has been uneasy for years now,” Shiro said. “Sam Holt was sent to the Galra court as a spy, and when we didn’t hear from him for a long time…”

“He was pronounced dead.” Matt returned his glasses to their place. “Eventually we _did_ receive proof of his death, but by then…”

Lance found himself hanging onto every word, holding his breath while Matt and Shiro told their tales. “By then?” he prompted.

Matt rubbed his eyes, his obvious exhaustion coupled with the shadows thrown around by their campfire making him look older than his years. “By then my sister had already run away, thinking she could find him herself.”

“What happened?” Lance asked, horror making his heart sink with dread. “She was—how old was she?”

“She was only twelve,” Matt said. “She was so smart for her age - smarter than _me_ , and I’m several years older - but still so young…” He buried his face in his hands. “We fought before she left - the way she talked about our father’s disappearance was upsetting our mother, and we couldn’t do anything about it - and told me she’d always hated the name _Pidge_.” He took a deep, shuddering breath, and Shiro rested a hand on his back. “My sister…Katie…I never saw her again, and all she took with her was a music box our father built for her and an old book of stories.”

He fell silent, leaving Lance, for once, at an utter loss for words.

Had he really found Matt’s long lost sister? Had he really tried to convince him she was _dead_ \- and that _he_ had been the one to kill her - mere hours ago?

“I know you mean her no harm,” Lance finally said, drawing Matt’s and Shiro’s gazes to him. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”

To his surprise, Matt smiled. “You had good intentions when you lied to us,” he said, “and I think you must feel something for my sister too, so if she’s still in one piece by the time we reach the dragon’s lair, I’ll forgive you.”

“And you’ve kept her safe from Prince Lotor,” Shiro added. “I don’t know what grudge he bears against King Zarkon’s witch, but he’d do anything to eradicate every last trace of her magic, and Pidge…”

“She may be strong as a dragon,” Matt said, his brow furrowing, “but she’s still a target for him. And while we search for some way to break _her_ curse, I’d rather he not interfere.”

* * *

They entered the narrow mountain pass around noon on their third day of traveling.

Lance guided his horse in, Shiro and Matt trailing him on their own mounts, and said, “She lives in a cave closer to the Galra end than to the Altean one.”

“So it’ll be another day or so?” Matt said, all but humming with impatience.

Lance rolled his eyes, beginning to understand why his father never enjoyed traveling with him and his brothers and sister when they were children. “Yes,” he said, “I think we’ll make it by midday tomorrow.”

But by morning, a shadow moved past them fast, and when Lance tilted his head backwards to look up, the dragon circled overhead.

His heart jumped into his throat and he told his traveling companions, “She’s spotted us.”

Matt dismounted his horse and hobbled forward a few paces, then cupped his mouth and shouted, “Pidge!”

“Wait, Matt, I don’t think—”

The dragon dove, landing in their path with a rush of air and scattering pebbles and flower petals in her wake. She bared her gleaming fangs, her wings outstretched and back arched like an angry, frightened cat’s.

The horses reared onto their hind legs, whinnying in fear, and Lance struggled to keep Blue under control before she could bolt.

 Pidge glared at Lance, her yellow eyes flashing despite the early morning shadows, and hissed, “You _promised_!”

Lance’s heart pounded, threatening to burst from his chest. He couldn’t lie to himself:  this side of Pidge _scared_ him, and for the moment he knew he deserved her anger.

He dismounted, tossing his reins to Shiro, and stepped forward. He told her, “Pidge, I found your—”

“Pidge, don’t you recognize me?” Matt called, waving both arms over his head and drawing her attention away from Lance. “It’s me, Matt!”

“I know no one named Matt!” Pidge retorted. “But I know a man named Lance, and I never thought him a _liar_!”

Lance’s chest ached at the accusation. “I can explain!” he said, darting towards her and past Matt. “Pidge—”

The sound of many hoofbeats echoing through the pass cut him off, and a new, awfully familiar voice burst in, “It seems I’m interrupting _quite_ the touching reunion.”

Prince Lotor, the man who alone posed the most danger to a distraught dragon, had arrived.

* * *

_Lance stood back-to-back with Hunk when the dragon swooped towards them, and that was when he realized how vulnerable they still were to an attack from above._

_“It’s going to kill us,” Hunk said hollowly. “It’s going to kill us and it’s all your fault for convincing me this was a good idea!”_

_“It’s not going to kill us,” Lance reassured him, leaning back and making sure to keep the dragon in sight._

_It wasn_ _’t difficult since with every tilt of its wings it drifted lower, blocking more and more of the sky overhead from his view. A gust of wind stirred his clothes and his hair, but he held firm, tugging on the string of his bow and training the arrow onto the dragon’s eye._

_If it drew much closer_ _…and it would have to slow down…then he could loose the bow and—_

_The dragon landed in a rush of hot air, trailing smoke from its nostrils. But before Lance could react, its tail collided with his abdomen and knocked the air from his lungs._

_He and Hunk landed in a heap on the hard ground, the dragon looming over them._

_Groaning and clutching at his likely bruised ribs, Lance disentangled himself from Hunk and stood to face the beast._

_It lowered its great green head, its yellow eyes gleaming. Its scales - closer knit and better protection than any man-made armor - glittered in the sunlight, beautiful enough that his breath caught in his throat and he might_ _’ve been filled with awe if he saw them from a greater distance._

_His heart pounded with fear, but the dragon was the only thing that stood between Lance and a knighthood._

_Lance reached for an arrow, pulling it from the quiver secured at his belt, and raised his bow._

_His hands were steady when he tugged the string towards his face and sighted along the arrow_ _’s shaft._

_“For Princess Allura,” he murmured, “and for Altea.”_

_Lance released the string._

_Dragon flame engulfed the arrow, burning it into ash that the wind scattered harmlessly._

_Lance scowled, already reaching for another arrow, but when he found nothing - the fall must_ _’ve knocked the rest out of the quiver - he stepped back towards Hunk, prepared to shield him bodily, wincing in anticipation and pinching his eyes shut._

_(He tried not to imagine the dragon_ _’s flames burning them both to a crisp.)_

_When no blow - no rush of heat - fell on him, Lance cracked his eyelids._

_The dragon extended its wings and leapt into the air, taking off in a great gust of wind that made him stumble backwards into Hunk._

_“Lance, are you all right?” Hunk asked, resting his hands on Lance’s shoulders._

_He nodded and sagged, the energy that had thrummed through his blood fading._ _“I…why is it leaving?”_

_“I don’t know,” Hunk said, “but I hope it stays away.”_

_“But I need it to come back!” Lance pulled away from Hunk, his gaze darting around in search of his dropped arrows. “I need—”_

_“Lance!”_

_His head jerked at Hunk_ _’s sudden shout, right in time for the dragon’s claws to snag in his shirt and tug him into the air._

_Lance screamed, his stomach turning with the sudden change in elevation as the dragon rapidly ascended. Air rushed past him, and the sound of the dragon_ _’s wings beating threatened to overwhelm his senses._

_“Hunk!” he shouted, and chanced a glance down._

_The sight of the ground far below nearly stopped his heart._

_“Let me go!” he yelled up to the dragon, barely hearing himself over the wind._

_“Are you sure you want that, Sir Knight?” the dragon demanded._

_Lance_ _’s eyes widened. “You can_ talk _?_ _”_

_“I can sing too,” the dragon replied, “although not very well.”_

_Startled, he stared down at the ground unseeingly, then said,_ _“Fascinating, but please,_ put me down _!_ _”_

_“I don’t think so,” the dragon retorted. “You tried to kill me, and for that you need to pay.”_

_“Then hurry up and kill_ me _!_ _” Lance fired back. “Just have done with it! No need to make it last!”_

_“No,” said the dragon. “For now, you go home with me.”_

_Lance pinched his eyes shut as they drew further away from his point of origin - further away from his home - and hoped the wind would dry his distraught tears before they could fall to the ground far below._

* * *

With his eyes wide with horror and his heart sinking with dread, Lance half-turned to face Prince Lotor and the small contingent of soldiers at his back.

Altean soldiers, but for his four half-Galra lieutenants.

“How did you know?” Lance demanded. “I told you nothing.”

Ezor smirked and offered him a wave. “You mean you haven’t noticed me following you?”

“What a shame,” Prince Lotor said with an unrepentant smile of his own. “This might’ve been avoided if you’d been more observant, but for now”—his eyes narrowed and fixed on the dragon—”I have another objective here.”

“No,” Lance said, stepping between Lotor and Pidge. “You’re not touching her.”

Lotor raised an arm, ready to signal to his small army. “And you really think you have a say in that?”

Lance turned towards Pidge. “Run,” he said, tone urgent. “Fly away! Matt, get her out of here!”

Pidge hissed at him and recoiled from Matt. “The damage is already done,” she growled, crouching and poised to attack - or defend.

“Prince Lotor, please,” Shiro cut in, nudging his frightened horse between the two sides. “Surely there’s another way we can settle this?”

“No,” Lotor pronounced, his mouth set into a merciless scowl. “The witch’s magic must be destroyed before her influence spreads further than my father’s court, and the first step for that is to kill her creation.” He leaned over and muttered something into Ezor’s ear, and to his soldiers he shouted, “Attack! No mercy for a beast of dark magic!”

Lance grabbed his bow, prepared to defend Pidge although they were vastly outnumbered. But as the soldiers rushed towards them - as Pidge lashed out at them on her own - he pushed that bleak thought from his mind.

He shot one in the neck, pushing away the remorse that welled up at slaying a fellow countryman. But Pidge wasn’t the enemy here.

No, Prince Lotor was.

“Protect Pidge!” he shouted to Matt over the sounds of men fighting an angry dragon. “I’m going after Lotor.”

“Wait, Lance—Pidge, _please_ , can you not see it’s your brother?”

Lance only fought those that stood between him and Lotor, the ones that attacked him, and despite a blow to his arm, he plowed ahead, heedless of the din that surrounded him.

Shiro and Matt would have to take care of themselves, he thought with a twinge of guilt. But for now—

The tip of a knife pressed into Lance’s back, making his heart jump and giving him pause.

The hesitation cost him, the presence behind him sliding the edge of a sword under his neck.

“Yes, that’s right,” Ezor cooed into his ear. “You think Prince Lotor thought he could bring down a dragon with this pathetic rabble of soldiers?” She snorted. “He’s not as much of a spineless fool as you seem to think, Lance.”

Lance resisted the urge to swallow, instead watching as the battle fell silent around him and Ezor forced him to turn and face his side:

Shiro clutched at his right shoulder, at his missing arm, while Narti held the tip of a sword to his neck. Matt lay on the ground with an arrow sticking out of his side, Zethrid standing over him with a crossbow in her giant hands.

And Pidge stood past them with her fangs bared and surrounded by patches of flame igniting the juniberry bushes, tendrils of smoke rising into the sky from those and the uniforms of collapsed soldiers.

“A dragon is not a simple beast,” Lotor called out to her, “so I address this to you in hopes that you will give in:

“Surrender, or these three men die.”

Lance’s jaw dropped, but despite the big part of himself that definitely did _not_ want to die, he knew Pidge wouldn’t give up her freedom - her lonely existence - for two strangers…or for him.

He _thought_.

To his surprise, Pidge’s posture eased, her jaws snapping shut.

Lance opened his mouth. “Wait, Pidge—”

“Don’t do it!” Matt shouted from the ground. “Don’t do it, Pidge!”

Lotor ignored him and said, “Am I wrong in supposing you hold some fondness for at least one of these men, dragon?” He stepped forward and rested an almost _affectionate_ hand on Lance’s shoulder. “This one, I would think, since I suspect he only returned to Altea because you _allowed_ him to.”

Lance shuddered and jerked himself away from Lotor’s grip - only for Ezor to tighten her hold on him and warn, “One slip of my hand and you die, and I do _not_ fancy washing bloodstains from my uniform.”

Lance rolled his eyes and retorted, “I’ll make my death messy, just for you.”

Pidge approached, Lance’s heart pounding faster with every step she took. “If I surrender, will you let him - _them_ \- go?”

“Pidge,” Lance begged, “please don’t—”

“I don’t have anything to live for, Lance,” Pidge said, voice low but carrying. “All I have is a music box and a collection of toys and a name that I’m not sure is even really _mine_.”

“But your _family_ ,” Lance insisted, trying to tug his arm from Ezor’s grip.

“What family?”

“Pidge…” Beyond her, Matt raised himself to his knees, heedless of Zethrid’s weapon trained on his head. “How can you say that? _I_ _’m_ your family.”

“But I don’t know you,” she said.

Another heart-stopping step closer…

“Wait,” Lance said, his eyes widening in horror as he counted Ezor at his back, Zethrid over Matt, and Narti behind Shiro. “Where’s Ac—”

Something hissed through the air over his head and struck Pidge.

A dragon’s scales shielded its body better than any man-made armor, but that didn’t mean it was without weak spots. Its eyes, for one, were most vulnerable, but for a skilled marksman the narrow slot where scales didn’t quite overlap over joints could be dealt a destructive blow.

Her body jerked, a crossbow bolt sticking out of her neck, hot dragon’s blood steaming from between her scales as she released a pained and gurgling screech.

Lance knocked his elbow into Ezor’s face, barely pausing to savor her gasp of surprise, and lurched towards Pidge as her legs buckled.

“No, Katie!”

At Matt’s anguished shout, a tremor traveled through Pidge’s body, and an unearthly violet glow engulfed her.

Lance sprinted those last few paces, the energy in his blood spurring him on, with his arms outstretched.

A girl - a petite young woman - fell into his arms as the eerie light faded, her eyes glassy and unfocused with pain.

Lance recognized her immediately, though she looked different without the delicate green scales under her eyes scattering light. “Pidge…” he murmured, quick to remove his cloak and bundle her into it - though wary of touching the crossbow bolt stuck between her neck and shoulder.

Pidge smiled weakly, her face too pale, and raised a hand before dropping it back to her side. “Lance,” she said, “where’s my brother?”

Lance laughed, relieved, and asked, “You remember now?”

She nodded. “I want to talk to him.”

“Yes, I’ll…” Lance glanced up, recalling that they stood in the midst of a battlefield. His eyes narrowed as they fell on Prince Lotor, and he demanded, “You see now, Your Highness? Do you _still_ want to kill her?”

Prince Lotor’s jaw hung open. “I-I…” he croaked.

Lance, judging the matter settled (for the moment), carefully stood, cradling Pidge close to his chest and walking towards Matt. He glared at Zethrid, who cast her eyes down and stepped away, affording them some privacy.

“Katie,” Matt said, wrapping his arms around her when Lance set her down beside him.

“I’m sorry,” Pidge said, her voice hoarse with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry for yelling at you a-and running away, Matt.”

“Please don’t be,” Matt said. Tears spilled from his eyes and Pidge’s as they reunited, and Lance turned away, feeling like an intruder.

His chest ached, contrasting with the jealousy that bit at him, but he shoved it back. It was not his time.

He went to Shiro. “What now, Captain?”

Shiro sighed, glancing first from Narti to where Prince Lotor stood in quiet conference with Acxa, the woman who’d shot Pidge. “We speak with His Highness,” Shiro said, “and we find some understanding that results in Katie’s safe return to Altea.”

“What if he insists on her death?” Lance said, scowling and clenching his hands into fists.

Shiro smirked as Prince Lotor turned and took a step towards them. “Somehow, I don’t think that will be a problem.”

* * *

Narti, Prince Lotor’s silent knight, proved to be a capable battlefield medic by treating the injury in Pidge’s neck.

“It’s only a temporary fix,” Acxa explained to her while Narti tugged thread and needle through her skin.

All the color drained from Pidge’s face, her fingers tight around Lance’s hand. But she nodded and said, “I’ve had worse.”

Lance looked up at Matt’s sharp intake of breath. “She’ll be fine,” he reassured him, despite the worry churning in his gut. “No thanks to you,” he added, throwing a glare at Acxa.

She closed her eyes but didn’t argue, instead drifting away to speak with Lotor.

“Lance?”

His gaze snapped down to Pidge’s at the sound of his name, spoken weakly. “Yes, Pidge?” He brushed sweat-damp hair away from her face. “You need something?”

“I need…a lot of things,” Pidge mused with a slight but pained smile, “but let’s start with just one or two.”

Lance rolled his eyes - of course nearly dying wouldn’t detract from her sense of humor - but leaned down. “Tell me.”

Moments later, Shiro and Prince Lotor agreed that it was time to return to Altea with all haste, but when Lance turned Blue to march in the opposite direction, Shiro asked, “Aren’t you a little too invested to be deserting us now?”

Lance laughed as he scanned the mountains, already searching for the narrow, winding path that would take him to the dragon’s lair. “I’ll catch up,” he promised. “I just need to retrieve something for Pidge.”

Shiro followed his gaze towards where Pidge sat behind Matt on his horse, a blood-stained bandage peeking out over the top of Lance’s cloak while she held tight to her brother. “Is it important?”

“Captain,” Lance said, “you have injured men with you. It won’t take me long.”

Shiro sighed but agreed, “I suppose we’ll at least see you by the time we meet in the city.”

“As long as no other dragon decides to make its home here,” Lance joked, his grin widening when Shiro pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes.

From the ground, the climb up the mountain wasn’t so familiar, and he was less than halfway up when Lance was forced to continue without his horse. He patted Blue’s nose and proceeded on foot, accompanied by the sweet fragrance of juniberry flowers.

Before long, his shadow fell across the entrance to the dragon’s lair.

The cave was darker than he’d ever seen it without dragon flame to light his way. Lance felt along the wall with his fingers, carefully searching for the dragon’s hoard.

His foot collided with something hard, and he stumbled, flailing his arms to recover his balance.

With his heart pounding, he bent down and picked up the music box, then wound and opened it.

A familiar tune that now seemed so bittersweet met his ears, and Lance half-expected that a girl with iridescent green scales under her eyes would be standing in his path when he turned. But no, Lance was alone in the shadowy lair of a dragon, and the only priceless artifacts he found in its hoard was a music box and a book of stories with the name of a once-cursed girl scrawled inside.

* * *

To his surprise and delight, Pidge took turns riding with Lance as well as with Matt on the return journey to Altea once he caught up to the party. And the first time she rode with him, when he gave her the artifacts from her long-lost childhood and watched a light enter her eyes, she opened the book of tales, propping it against Blue’s neck, and read.

Lance wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer against him than was necessary, enraptured by the quiet murmur of her voice - and heat rose to his cheeks when, rather than pulling away, she leaned into him.

Pidge smelled far from pleasant after years living wild as a dragon, but Lance doubted his scent was much better after days of travel.

Matt, perched in his own saddle, raised an eyebrow at them the first time. “Something you want to tell me, Pidge?”

(Apparently Pidge had decided she didn’t mind that name so much after all.)

“Yes, actually,” Pidge said, eyes still on her book while she turned a page. “Next time I’m with you, I want to steer.”

Matt frowned. “You barely knew how to ride before.”

“No time like the present to learn,” Pidge said, the smirk audible in her voice.

Matt scowled at her. “Why don’t you ask Lance then?”

Pidge glanced over her shoulder at Lance right before averting her eyes, color filling her cheeks. “Because his horse is too meek and I want a challenge,” she mumbled.

“M-my horse is not—Blue is _not_ too meek!” Lance retorted, indignant on his mare’s behalf. He patted his loyal steed’s rump and added, “Maybe _you_ _’re_ just not good enough for her!”

“Or maybe you’re just perfect for her,” Pidge said, her elbow nudging his side. “I wouldn’t want to part you, and besides, I think I’d rather read.”

Lance’s eyes narrowed. “You can also read with your brother,” he pointed out.

“I’m steering when I ride with him,” Pidge stated with the utmost confidence before turning a glare onto Matt.

Matt’s eyes drifted from Pidge to Lance, and something like understanding filled them. “Fine,” he said, sighing. “You win this one, but _only_ because I missed you.”

Pidge laughed triumphantly, her attention soon returning to her book.

Later, after travel sapped her strength and after she’d nearly collapsed while on horseback, Narti saw to changing the bandages on her wound. And Matt approached Lance and tugged him aside.

“Don’t break her heart, Lance.”

Lance blinked in surprise, his jaw dropping. “I wouldn’t—”

“She seems happy now, but she was separated from us for years and she’s only just remembered that our father is dead.” Matt prodded him in the hip with the end of his crutch. “So I’m warning you now:  don’t add heartbreak to that list.”

Lance rested his hand over his pounding heart and promised, “I won’t. I-I love her.”

And he did, he realized with a startling burst of clarity.

The words set him free, in a way. He no longer wished to open his eyes and find himself back in the dragon’s lair, to see flashing yellow eyes and hear her grumbling about having to feed him or complaining about towing him back after his latest escape attempt.

Somehow, in the midst of all that, the inquisitive and sentimental human in the dragon won his heart.

A heart that felt fit to burst, he recognized as he glanced towards where Pidge lay, wrapped tightly in his cloak and curled into a ball beside Shiro.

Lance loved Pidge, for helping him let go of a dream that would never fulfill him.

Matt’s hand on his shoulder jerked him from his thoughts. He smiled at Lance and said, “Well, it looks like you rescued a fair maiden from the dragon after all.”

* * *

Prince Lotor swore the borrowed Altean soldiers to secrecy, but naturally rumors still spread.

“So you never slew the dragon?” Hunk said, raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Lance.

“I did not,” Lance admitted. “That would’ve been Pidge.”

Hunk smiled. “Ah, yes, this Pidge. When are you going to take me to meet her?”

Lance patted him on the shoulder and spooned more stew into Hunk’s bowl. “She’s still healing from the battle, Hunk,” he said. “I’ve barely been allowed to see her.”

So close, and yet…

Once reunited with her long-lost daughter, Pidge’s mother requested that only family be allowed to visit her at the hospital adjacent to the Castle. Thus far, Lance had sneaked in to visit once, but the guard posted outside burst into Pidge’s room to “escort” him out before he’d so much as held her hand.

She’d at least had the time to give him the music box, wrapped in the cloak she borrowed from him, “for safekeeping”.

“Only family?” Hunk said.

“Only family,” Lance confirmed with a sigh. “And the only way _I_ can be family is if we—” He cut himself off with a strangled gasp, his face hot.

“If you what?” Hunk prompted.

“If we…marry,” Lance mumbled, covering his undoubtedly red face with both hands.

Why had it only occurred to him now? He loved her - the thought of her and her grin alone brought a smile to his face and a flutter to his stomach - so why not think of what came next?

If she loved him too.

“I didn’t catch that,” Hunk said.

“Never mind,” Lance groaned. “I need to see her soon or I think I might die.”

Hunk raised an eyebrow at him. “You won’t die just from waiting a few more days.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Wait, how exactly did you and Pidge meet?”

Lance stared at him, then smiled sheepishly. “Oh, Hunk, the rumors aren’t as wild as the truth, because if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

* * *

He saw her again at a small celebration held at the Castle in honor of the “death” of the dragon that hunted the mountain pass.

Pidge stood between her brother and mother, and when Lance’s eyes fell on her his breath caught in his throat.

She wore a beautiful green gown composed of shimmering fabric, the skirt billowing out from her waist and trailing along the floor. It left her neck exposed, a delicate silver chain with an oddly shaped pendant hanging against the hollow of her throat.

Most of her hair, too tangled to be salvaged after a years-long ordeal, had been hacked off, leaving her hair short enough that it only brushed the top of her neck. But it had been styled for the party, a white headband holding most of it away from her face.

But before Lance had the chance to slip away from Hunk and approach her, the king stepped onto the dais at the front of the hall and spoke.

Lance only half-listened to King Alfor’s brief speech on courage and service, his attention mostly on Pidge. She glanced up, likely sensing his stare, and when their eyes met her cheeks reddened.

She averted her gaze, her ensuing smile almost _shy_.

Lance’s own face warmed, an answering heat in his chest, but the sound of his name pulled him from his thoughts.

“—Lance would come up to the dais and be recognized for his role in liberating the pass from the dragon.”

Lance’s eyes widened as he turned to the front of the hall, a hush seeming to fall over the crowd while all eyes looked to him. He smiled, noticing Princess Allura standing beside her father, and approached the dais, uncertain what was in store for him but happy to meet it.

“Kneel,” said the princess, holding up a sword.

Lance’s jaw dropped. “W-what?”

Allura smiled. “Was your desire for knighthood all talk, Lance?”

He blushed and knelt, and though he’d accepted that he didn’t _want_ a knighthood, he embraced the sense of pride that filled him upon earning one.

“Rise,” Allura said once the deed was done, “Sir Lance.”

Lance stood in front of her, his grin so wide his cheeks ached, and she carefully pinned a medal to the front of his formal uniform coat. “Thank you, Princess.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, surprising him with a brief kiss to the cheek. “Thank _you_.”

The king presented him to the court with the fresh title attached to his name.

Lance sought Pidge with his eyes, but his grin faltered when she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. He descended the dais and headed straight for her, but before he made it the king made a new announcement:

“And for outstanding service on behalf of the crown, we award to Sir Sam Holt the medal of the Order of the White Lion. If a member of his family would step forward to claim it on his behalf.”

Pidge’s jaw set, and she left Matt and her mother without prompting, sweeping past Lance with her gaze fixed ahead. She curtsied to the king once she stood on the dais, and he dropped a medal with a white ribbon around her neck.

Pidge straightened to subdued applause, smiling despite her eyes shining with unshed tears.

She disappeared from the hall not long after that, and while other guests stood chatting in knots with drinks in hand, Shiro approached Lance.

“I’m proud of you, _Sir_ Lance,” his captain said, smiling and clapping him on the shoulder. “You deserved it.”

“For slaying a dragon that never really existed?” Lance said, raising an eyebrow.

Shiro shook his head and chuckled. “Not quite that, no,” he said. His gaze slipped past Lance, and when he turned it was to see Matt comings towards them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early when you report to duty.” He peeled away, raising a hand to greet Keith before Lance could inquire what, exactly, he’d meant.

Matt found him first, so Lance asked him, “Did Pidge leave already?”

“She hasn’t yet,” he said with a slight frown. “I suspect she won’t want to until she talks to you.”

“Then do you know where she is?” Lance once more scanned the hall, but when his eyes didn’t alight on Pidge, he glanced at Matt.

“She mentioned something about needing air.” Matt sighed and patted Lance’s back. “Don’t take it personally if she doesn’t want to see you. She’s been missing for six years, but she still prefers to be upset in private.”

“I…oh.” Lance’s heart plummeted, but he said, “I’ll go look for her.”

“Good luck, Sir Lance,” Matt said, tone teasing, as he raised his glass in a toast.

Lance slipped away from the ballroom and wandered the familiar halls of the Castle, searching for likely places in which a once-dragon would hide and sulk.

He tried the library, the kitchens, the armory, even the stables, but found no sign of Pidge.

Lance sagged against the wall of the guards’ barracks, trying to think of where else he could look…unless, like Matt supposed, she simply didn’t want to be found.

But then the soft and achingly familiar sound of sobs met his ears.

“Pidge?” he called, keeping his voice low as he pushed the door of the barracks open.

A sudden silence greeted him, but Lance ventured further inside, peeking around dark corners until he spotted a slight, silhouetted figure seated on a stool beside a window.

“Pidge?” he tried again, and this time she glanced up, her eyes rimmed red and cheeks stained with tears.

When Lance drew closer, he noticed that the pendant hanging from Pidge’s neck was shaped like a glittering emerald dragon.

At a loss of how to comfort her - though he could guess why he needed to - Lance quipped, “Is it strange that this party is because of your death? Except you’re _not_ dead?”

“I’m not the dragon anymore,” Pidge murmured, her voice steadier than he expected, “even if it’ll always be a part of me.”

“Is that why you came here?” Lance glanced around the barracks before drawing closer to her. “It _does_ kind of remind me of your—of the dragon’s lair.”

Pidge snorted. “A little, maybe, but…”

Lance leaned against the wall beside her, sliding down until he could sit on the floor. “But?”

“I…hoped you’d find me before anyone else.”

Lance smiled. “You could’ve looked for me yourself, Pidge.”

“Maybe, but it seemed you might’ve wanted to enjoy your knighthood. Congratulations, by the way; I know you’ve always wanted one.”

“Well, now I think I’ve earned it, unlike when I left you.” He stood up and stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “By the way, neither of us is who we were then, so why don’t we go for a walk somewhere that isn’t so dingy and dark?” He offered Pidge his hand, his heart pounding in his ears while he waited for her to take it.

She did.

Lance pulled her to her feet, interlacing their fingers and leading her outside to a world bathed in moonlight and the lamps that lit up the Castle’s grounds. They wandered through well-kept gardens with cultivated bushes - though none so vibrant as the wild juniberry flowers that lined the mountain pass.

“Are you…happy to be back?” Lance wondered cautiously after several moments of walking together in silence.

“I am,” Pidge said, “but…”

“What?”

Pidge sighed and quietly admitted, “I never accepted my father’s death, so now that I remember it, I have to…grieve again.” She sniffed and wiped tears from her face. “Even if I do know more about the circumstances surrounding it, it’s still…hard.”

They paused in the middle of the path, and Lance leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Pidge stiffened. “Lance,” she said, “what are you doing?”

Lance pulled away. “Comforting you,” he said, hoping she didn’t see the flush that undoubtedly colored his face. “What else?” Before she could do much more than gape at him, he sighed and added, “And I should apologize for breaking my promise.”

“What promise?”

“I promised not to lead anyone back to your—the dragon’s lair.” Lance grinned and reminded her, “And you promised to eat me if I did.”

To his delight, Pidge laughed. “I would’ve never held that promise,” she said, squeezing his hand. “And I forgive you; the outcome more than makes up for it, I think.”

“Then what do you want to do now that you’re human again?” Lance wondered, tugging her along the path.

Pidge stayed close to his side, their arms closely linked, and hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure yet,” she said, “but I think I might like to build toys. Maybe I’ll even invent things more useful than timepieces.”

Lance grinned and nudged her in the side. “Would you build me a pocket watch?” he asked. “I think I’d like something engraved with the date I was finally knighted.”

Pidge’s nose wrinkled, and she knocked her shoulder into him. When he laughed, she said, “You’d better have the money to pay for it, _Sir Knight_.” Her fingers slid under the medal gleaming on the breast of his uniform, smoothing the short ribbon with her thumb.

Lance snorted as he wrapped her into his arms and buried his nose in her clean-smelling hair.

Pidge leaned into him, her arms snaking around his back while she pressed her face to his chest, his pounding heart underneath her ear.

“Is there…any room for the brave and dashing knight that rescued you in that future?” Lance whispered.

“Maybe, if you find him.”

“Hey!” Lance exclaimed, pulling away from him slightly.

Pidge snickered and wrapped her arms around his neck. “But there’s room for the brave boy that grew into his too-big britches.”

“Yes, but I’m a knight now too,” Lance pointed out.

“Should I call you _Sir_ Lance now?” Pidge raised an eyebrow while one of her hands wandered into his hair and pulled his head down. “But I think I like Lance better…”

Their noses brushed, and Pidge’s warm breath caressed his face.

Lance’s eyes slid shut when he kissed her.

Pidge sighed into his lips, and Lance’s arms tightened around her waist as he leaned in closer.

“I love you, Pidge,” he breathed, reaching up to cup her cheeks.

Pidge giggled, a truly happy sound that made his stomach flutter. “I love you too, _Sir_ Lance.”

Lance groaned, sensing the teasing for what it was. He pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck and grumbled, “Stop mocking me, Pidge.”

Pidge played with the hair that tickled the back of his neck and said, “I will if you kiss me again.”

Lance smiled as he obliged.

In her lips he tasted forever, and in the warm brush of her skin he found their future.

An explosion overhead interrupted them, and when they parted breathlessly, both startled, a burst of flame and color greeted their sights.

Fireworks flew from the Castle’s towers, scattering colored sparks and trailing smoke in all directions. The bursts of sound assaulted Lance’s ears as he pulled Pidge closer to watch.

But despite the exploding of fireworks, a different and gentler tune came to mind.

Lance hummed it, recalling every moment - pleasant or miserable or warm or cold - spent in a cave hidden in a mountain pass. Pidge joined in, a smile on her face, and threading her fingers through his hair until he leaned down to kiss her again.

**Author's Note:**

> so when i planned that last scene i had totally forgotten that it was the day before July 4th so i assure you that the fireworks are purely coincidental
> 
> thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed it don't forget to leave a comment on your way out <3


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